Flashes of Red
by Wolf Lover42
Summary: These are flashes from A Twilght Lover's Story. They go through nightmares that Bella sees, hears, and feels. Some are gory, some are sad, and some just are unreal. ENJOY and REVIEW. A maddening one-shot. OOC.


These are little glimpses from A Twilight Lover's Story. They are sad and make your heart beat faster. I hope you enjoy them, and review. They're OOC.

_Thank you._

Bella's Nightmare:

She was walking through a dark valley, blind to her surroundings. Nothing moved; nothing made a sound except for her frantic heart and her erratic breathing.

What _was _this place?

Then, tripping, this helpless girl fell. She curled in a ball and cried out sour tears on the ground. Blood, warm and salty, trickled down her skinned knee, down her leg.

A blinding silver light blasted the sky. The girl was silenced in her terrified scream. She stumbled to get up, and watched this stream of grey pierce the dark skies in fearful wonder as it thrashed her hair in her face.

It was like water, swirling like a tornado. But it was gone as soon as it started. It bubbled down, like a flat disc. It whirled towards her, and it felt like her screech was tearing her throat apart.

It stopped a hundred feet from her, just idling there. It morphed around a human shape, and for a moment she thought she knew the figure. It snapped away.

She blinked—a terrible second to be gone from her surroundings.

The figure was an inch from her face.

He was scarred, bloody, and evil—the devil himself?

The girl's eyes widened and she knew she would die.

The devil smiled—a flash of her own opposite of heaven. He blinked slowly, wind from the tornado whipping his hair in slow motion.

It was beyond horrifying.

He raised his hand. A glimpse of ice glittered. Her eyes traced his arm, to the shiny object.

A dagger, bloody and rusting. The hilt was of a human bone.

There was a searing, scorching pain in her heart.

Her fingers curled around the knife, and felt her dying heart pump slower.

The devil smiled and kissed her paling lips.

"Welcome to the Underworld, Bella."

Bella's Nightmare (Variation 2): 

In her nightmare, she was in her enemy's garden, all alone. It was dark, but everything was in the same place as when she first visited. She stumbled around, her breathing the only sound. The waterfall was there, the frogs were croaking, but they were muted.

She tripped, and she felt hot blood trickle down her leg. She stood, her head whipping around frantically.

Then, ahead of her, was a silver glow. It got brighter and brighter until it burned her eyes. She looked away, and the light vanished. Blinking, she brought her head up.

A knight was smiling down at her.

Then time backed up. She was back where she started, darker than before.

The princess fell, got up, and waited, trembling like a leaf in the breeze. This time, the blinding light was red—blood red.

Two men emerged from the wound in the sky, and they both grinned evilly. The knife-man's eyes flashed—no, it was a bloody dagger.

That dagger moved. A searing, scorching pain exploded in her heart.

The girl let out a shocked exhale.

Her shaking fingers curled around the knife that was impaled in her dying heart.

She woke screaming.

Bella's Dome:

She found them sitting on the fountain, and her cousin was comforting his fiancée.

The woman was gazing blankly at the clear blue sky, not blinking.

Then, from behind a blooming bush, she realized her cousin was not comforting, but frantically questioning her. The princess had a feeling that her future second cousin couldn't hear him.

"My love? Can you hear me? Please, say something!" He was desperately shaking her shoulders, tears streaking down his cheeks. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it! Please…please…"

And that's when she heard glass shatter.

Her kingdom's stain-glass window with her flame emblem exploded in a million pieces, just like her heart.

Chunks of glass went everywhere, tearing her dress and her skin and getting in her hair. She watched each slice fly in slow motion as ran through the gardens.

Her betrothed was standing in a circle where no glass had hit. All around him was the window shards, but nothing had hit him. It was like he was in an invisible dome.

The princess, heart in her mouth, skipped over the mess, and leaped into his open arms.

It was like a dream. While she felt silent tears fall down her cheeks, she heard wood splintering.

As insulation fell like feathers, sunlight filtered in, and the wood and stones that had surrounded the window creaked and snapped quickly.

All the debris fell around them, bouncing off the invisible dome. They were hugging in a circle of clean floor and air.

So this was her enemy's wrath.

Her last tear dripped onto his shoulder.

"A dark spot," he murmured to no one in particular. "Like our lives. A perfect life, ruined by one man—the circle of evil." His voice was full of disgust. "He _will _die."

Thunder rumbled as if in answer.

The sparkling sunlight drained away, replaced by menacing clouds. A tiny sliver of gold shimmered, landing on her battered body.

She looked up, and it was like her dome. Everywhere there was darkness and cold. But just on her figure was a spotlight of sun, sparkling and warm.

It was like Heaven, just in a destroyed castle.

The sunlight flickered, as if the evil man disapproved of her thoughts.

"He will," she agreed.

They were engulfed in black, the wind tugging at their hair.

Shadows Locked in Battle:

In the morning, she was relieved to not have had any nightmares.

In her dream, she was walking in a meadow, greener than anything she had ever seen in her life. It was better than her captor's and her courtyards combined! Where was it, though?

Flowers sprung up from nowhere, blasting her with cool, sweet-smelling scents that made her sneeze. Trees gave her shade, and maple odor filled the air. When she looked up at the sun, rising above the green landscape, she saw a familiar silhouette. Not her fiancée, not her captor, no one horrid or a loved one.

She ran to the shadow, hope filling her heart. She tried her best not to trip on her dress, which was lighter than she expected—she was wearing a peasant dress. Ignoring, however, she kept going. Then she skidded to halt in horror.

There, just a hundred feet away, the shadow burst into action, shifting from one to two. The first shadow, the first one, drew a sword and slashed at the second. Suddenly locked in a furious battle, dodging and thrashing, rolling and twisting, she could only stare.

This was not a dream, it was not a nightmare—it was a _vision_.

How could she tell?

The first silhouette was a familiar knight, blood dripping from his eyes. The second was her captor, hatred scrawled on his face.

Reality is a Nightmare:

No one made a sound. It was deathly silent.

Then, the servant jerked. His mouth opened wide and let out an agonized rumble. When he gazed downward, his eyes were green—the color of her captor's.

He laughed, and it was like three of him were laughing, which made it three times worse.

"You monster!"

The maid's face was red with fury, yet her voice was filled with fear. Her hands were clenched until her knuckles were white and her whole self was trembling.

_Don't fight, don't say anything_, she willed her friend. She wanted to scream, but her voice flew away a long time ago.

She backed down when she saw his murderous expression. He drew the servant's sword, at the ready. She knew how his temper flared. As soon as he withdrew, he sheathed it.

"I will not kill you—yet. For I have something else to do." He stood in front of her fiancée, kneeling down to hiss in the servant's face. "You took her from me, you fox-hearted cheater. You stole her, my only love. For this you will pay."

Even the knight at her betrothed's side was frightened. He dropped him, who grunted in pain, and stepped rapidly backward. The possessed man did not seem to notice. His eyes were set on the fallen man, not moving. He placed his hand on his sword.

Her heart raced; her body filling with new, uncomprehending energy. No one—_no one_—messed with her fiancée in front of her.

She jumped to her feet. "Hey, you freak— don't mess with him."

He growled, and it shook the entire castle. He spun to face her, just before she got a glimpse of her fiancée's horrified eyes.

"No!"

He lunged at her, despite what he said. He grabbed her wrist and twisted hard. She screeched like an animal and fell. He leaned down and jeered, "You dare mock me, girl?"

"If you love me," she choked, as he bent harder. "If you love me, let me go. Let them all go, including the servant."

"Aw," he purred, his hot, slimy breath warming her ear, "she cares about her pathetic friends. How sweet."

"What happened to your love notes? Those taunting voices in my head? You do not love me, you wish to own me."

"No." His voice broke, for a second becoming the servant's. It flickered back and he loosened his grip, dropping her like a doll. She felt pain pierce her jaw as it slammed against the stone. "No!"

His strong arms lifted her, cradling in his arms. They were barely aware of the terrified cries of the others. Her eyes fluttered open and closed, and her body felt like she was crushed, the strength sapping away. Her soul was slipping.

With care, he placed his hand on her scarcely moving chest. He closed his eyes and murmured an ancient blessing.

She began to get limper as all her injuries and memories and hurt and rejections and pain and the weight of her decisions and fighting and…and…and…

"No!" several voices shrieked.

Then a bright light shone. Familiar faces appeared in the clouds. "Come," they whispered. "Come, rest here in Heaven."

Three golden-glowing deer trotted gracefully up. Their eyes glittered butter yellow and the buck reared up. He touched the sky with his nose and the beautiful lights vanished and it went black.

"Is it not your time yet. You have a great destiny to fulfill."

Gone: 

After a moment, she jerked and fell back limp. Her eyes opened and were glassy as if death already claimed her.

One Half of a Whole:

I couldn't live without my other half…

Madness:

"You killed her! You let her die! She's gone!" My throat went dry and I lost my voice. I screeched soundlessly.

I buried my face in her hair. Coldness radiated off her body. The touch of death. She smelled of nothing, just empty air. She really was dead.

Back?:

I fell to my knees, my true love still in my bleeding hands. I began to feel light-headed. My vision blurred as I stared into her unblinking eyes. She was beautiful, like an angel. That was how I always saw her, only better. I saw her wings—that was how she seemed to glide when she walks, ever so graceful. Her pale, determined face, but always so terrified. It shouldn't be that way, it should be happy, full of joy. Her captor, my enemy, ruined her life in so many ways, scarring her. And in my view, her broken jaw made her look like a brave warrior, fighting her way through life. I loved her, and there was nothing that could change that, even in her state she was in.

"My love," I murmured, barely able to speak. "I love you, don't leave me. Please, please…"

Her heart has stopped, her chest moved no more. Even I had no heart left. That's when I realized she really was gone. She was gone. Gone. I took her and sobbed into her cold, dirty hair.

And that's when she blinked. I stared at her, incredulous, not understanding my emotions.

Her cracked, pale lips on her broken jaw scarcely moved, and the shallow rhythms of her heart hardly beat. Her breath came out in rattles, but there was so much love in her voice. "And I love you," she whispered, struggling to keep her eyes open.

She was alive. She was here, next to me, breathing and alive.

He lay beside her, stroking her bloody back, closing my eyes. I relished this moment, never happier. She lay back too, rubbing her face in his chest.

Just as I dozed off, content, I heard her murmur, "I won't ever leave you, my beloved. I never did."

Rewind:

"Soon, one of the rebellion kingdoms led an attack. There was a great fire, and thousands of innocent people died." Mother pursed her lips, her eyes filled with tears. Father, caught in memories, rubbed her shoulders.

"The royal family, including me, hid in the deepest parts of the castle. But your grandfather insisted on fighting with his knights. Your father wanted to go, but he wanted to stay with me more. I was expecting you. It was terrible. I felt the tension crackle and the fire crackling above my head. I felt sick. Then, without an answer, your grandfather darted out with his soldiers. We waited in silence as we heard screams and fire and swords. Our kingdom was falling.

"All of a sudden, however, every sound stopped. The screams were silenced, the clang of armor halted. Only the sparking of fire was to be heard. Your grandmother stood up, screaming and sobbing. She ran to the door that led upstairs, but four knights had to hold her back.

"All of us knew Charlie's father would never return."

Blood Red:

He was rigid, but his eyes were flashing with a thousand memories.

"I was three years old. I was playing in my mother's small inch of a garden. My father was at his shop. He was a blacksmith. I heard screams before my mother. I tugged her skirt, and she smiled. But then my father came tripping down the dusty road. He was yelling, 'Attack! Run, soldiers are coming!' The entire village exploded in bright red colors, and I was lost. My mother picked me up and pushed through a crowd of screaming people. I got scratched, cut, bruised. I was crying. I remembered my mother's soft, musical voice. She whispered to me, 'Be strong, my son. You will survive, and you will do great things. I love you, my son. Be brave.'

"She tripped, and she dropped me. Before I got trampled, I crawled to the shadows. I saw her stand, my eyes filled with stinging smoke and red. A red rose bloomed on her chest. A soldier ran her through with his sword, right through her heart. I shrieked in terror, and light faded from her eyes and she fell. Her body was kicked out of sight.

"Just then, my father's bloodied face appeared. 'Son,' he hissed to me, shaking me. 'Son, I know you are strong. Be brave. I will always—' He was stabbed with a bloodied axe before me, and my father's body crumbled an inch from my foot. I scooted farther in the bushes. None of them were burning. My mouth was dry and foul, my eyes stung like spices were thrown into them, I couldn't breathe. My clothes were ripped, I was bleeding, and my hair was scorched. Surely I would die.

"I cried, my ears filled with screams and clangs and crackles and the rip of flesh. They were filled with dying pleas and malicious yowls of victory, from both sides. My peaceful world was gone in a matter of minutes. So I curled in a corner and closed my eyes, willing the colorless eyes of my dead father to disappear. All the terrible, bloody images of families and soldiers to vanish. But they stayed in my mind, more vivid and scarier than before.

"And, after a hundred years, from what it felt like, everything ceased. Screams and battles stopped, only the crackle of fire was left. My ears still rang. I could hear horses whinnying and snorting, but they got farther away. The acrid smoke still rose into the sky, fire still sparked. But it ceased after a while, and footsteps crunched on the rocky soil as well as bodies being dragged away. I watched someone drag my father away, but I squeezed my eyes shut. I prayed to God, like my mother did, pleading to make this end. I didn't know what was happening, and I wanted it to stop. But the endless pain kept stinging. I was broken.

"Then soft, careful footsteps halted next to me. I sucked in my breath. A girl's young, sooty face peered down at me, a sad smile on her features. 'Come,' she said to me, reaching her hand out. I cringed away, screaming for my mother, but the girl squeezed in beside me, picking me up in her arms. She was maybe four years older than me, but this war—whatever it was—aged her. She seemed ten years older. She carried my limp and shaking body through devastation, though I couldn't see through the dust and smoke. Only a few people cleaned the streets, less than the number that lie dead on the ground.

"The girl stroked my back, murmuring, 'Do not worry, my boy. My name is Violet. I will always take care of you.'

"And I believed her. She did take care of me, teaching me the ways of a servant.

"It took years and years for the images and pain to go away. It took years for the village and kingdom and its people to recover. The only good news was that two months later after the Great Fire, a princess was born. Princess Bella Marie Swan, borne to King Charlie and Queen Renee. Charlie's father had died fighting, and Charlie's mother had died of grief.

"Then, six years later, I was sweeping the halls. I heard a squeal of joy, followed by loud footsteps and grumbles. I also heard a woman's amused laugh.

"I looked up to see a little girl half-dressed running at full speed towards me. She was only in her shift, her eyes wide with laughter and her hair wet and dripping. Her chubby little hands clutched onto my legs, and she rubbed her head on my knee. I was so startled, I just stood there. A knight, the king, and the queen caught up. King Charlie scooped up his daughter, who was red-faced with giggles. He walked away with his sour knight, grumbling. But the queen smiled a small smile. She whispered, 'Thank you, for being there for her. Always be there for her,' and followed her husband.

"I knew already that the little girl was mine.

"For years, I played hide-and-seek with the princess, laughing when I caught her and she kicked and screamed in delight. She would try to smack me with her little chubby fists, but I would catch her and tickle her until she cried in joy. It felt good to be happy in these violent times.

"And then I knew my heart was full, and my life was recharged and ready for anything. I would protect this girl, whatever the cost. And I still honor my family and the thousands who died fighting for justice."

He looked to the speechless princess. "I still protect you, whatever the cost."

Black:

Her eyes rolled back into her head, and unconsciousness took her into its icy grip.

Burning:

I skidded to a stop in the main hall, in the middle of my future kingdom's emblem—the burning flame.

It felt like that flame was alive. It was swallowing me, biting me. I was furious. The scorching, stinging rage roared inside me.

Sounds:

And she remembered feeling unreal pain, unreal fear. The sound of his voice was like bearing a thousand daggers down your back; like claws along steel—like being dragged by your hair into a broken-down carriage. And she knew from experience that a thousand knives were much better.

Heaven is Hell:

She stared in shocked hurt at the once beautiful scene.

The trees were bare and on fire. The long, luscious grass was dead and burnt. The clear, blue sky was red, brown, and filled with curling smoke. The waterfall was dried up, and the stream was empty—just dirt and debris.

No longer was it a place from Heaven—it was a heartless, cold place from Hell.

A harsh squawking sent her head spinning. She turned in fright to see a vulture glaring at her from a burning tree.

But it wasn't a vulture.

It _was_, but it was just a skeleton. Its beady red eyes stared out of a skull; its bloody talons were attached to long and bloody legs. Its wings were sparking, burning on the little feathers it had left. It opened its large, filthy beak and let out a scream that raked her eardrums.

It then flew off in a flurry of ashes.

Her breath came out in rattles and startled gasps. Her heart had left when the dead creature screeched. Her clean white dress was in tatters and was now patterned with brown mud. Her hair was not perfect, but frizzy and wild.

She got shakily to her feet. With a loud crack, her heeled shoes caught fire, and with a terrified scream, she kicked them off.

A chipmunk, red with flames, scurried away with one, chattering crossly. Then a flaming squirrel took the other.

Tears filled her eyes. The gorgeous, peaceful gardens had become battlefields.

A light blinded her—not a bright, happy light, a scary black light.

It opened like a wound, like blood oozing from a welt. It glazed across the smoke infested sky, and then swarmed across the smoke itself.

Blood red eyes blinked open. Soon, out of the shadow and smolder, a figure formed. It was eerily graceful and it shook its mighty head in anger.

Then it was still. She stood rigidly, her hand at her mouth. The unnamed creature gazed straight at her, as if looking right to her frantic heart, deciding whether to rip it out or not.

It blinked once. She blinked once, and the creature was right there, a centimeter in front of her.

_A/N: Hey, thanks for reading this! …I don't have much else to say…thanks. ;)_

_PLEASE REVIEW!_


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